The dark elf was in deep thought. He carefully analyzed the past events, trying to connect the past events together with what was happening. He could not push aside the persistent nagging at the back of his mind.
Rûdhchamion sighed deeply, turned to face his companions once more and he began his tale.
“As I said before at the Elvenking’s court, my people were few. We lived moving from one part of the Vale of Anduin to another, along the eaves of Eryn Galen. Last we settled near Leog Ningloron. Hunting was good as we prepared for our feast, as narbereth, sun waning, was about to begin.
It was at this time that one of my mother’s kin came upon two travelers. They were headed for Dale at the foot of Erebor, or so they claimed. They seemed travel-weary, and had but a small horse to carry their burden.
We were about to begin our festivities. My father was presenting the antlers of a large stag that we had hunted that day. There was a sudden shout and several cries of alarm.
We were soon on our their feet, still bewildered. Orc raiders suddenly appeared from around us, and we all went for our bows and spears. Darts and arrows filled the air as armored orcs began their butchery.
We all fought back desperately, but our wooden spears and leather armor were no match against blades of steel. More and more orcs and armored men came with poisoned darts and iron spears.
I watched helplessly as an orc shot a dart at my mother, and as I ran to give aid to my father as he tried to reach her, he too was cut down by one of the men. I heard my sister, Pennnauriel shout out a warning. As I turned to look in her direction, she ran to me and pushed me aside. I caught her as she stiffened and suddenly went limp, a dart embedded at the side of her neck. I felt utterly helpless as I knelt there holding her as she breathed her last.“
He paused a moment, refusing to give in to the dark despair and grief that had washed over him.
“I remember there was an orc who was about to strike with an axe. But several arrows had forced him to back off. He too had an emblem. A red emblem on his armor. It was the Eye.” The dark elf turned a troubled look at Anarya.
“Wait… before we had settled there. There was rumor that a king among men was ambushed around those parts of Leog Ningloron. He was among those that had help defeat the Dark Lord in the battle of the Last Alliance.”
Rûdhchamion sighed and sat back, thinking.
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